


The sound of glass breaking

by NegativeBlue



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Char death, F/F, author waxing poetically?, kinda pre SQ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegativeBlue/pseuds/NegativeBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stares at them in disbelief and shock. Stares at them, at their anguished tear-streaked faces and doesn’t know what to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The sound of glass breaking

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of in the vein of Incomplete writing-style wise. I'm trying out a few things for a longer story I'm working on. ..oh did I mention angst yet btw? Special thanks to Antti for helping with beta-ing, or trying anyhow since he's dead on his feet.

_‘There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.’_

_-Aeschylus._

  
  


 

* * *

 

 

In the end it wasn’t a Dragon. Or Ogres. Not some heroic sacrifice during a battle.

 

But mangled metal and broken glass.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She visits the site one day and doesn’t really know how she ended up walking there.

 

It had taken close to an hour at least and still she doesn’t remember too much of the journey. Regina muses her thoughts have taken her there. When they drift, they always drift to her, and even though it’s been months, she still finds it surprisingly hard to wrap her mind around the fact that Emma Swan is truly gone forever.

 

There is nothing there when she arrives at the scene. That is the only thing that springs to mind when she looks around. Just a nondescript area of the woods at the edge of the road. A few broken branches and a swathe cut out of some of the underbrush are the only signs of what had taken place. That and the mark on the tree.

 

Birds whistle in the trees all around her as the sunlight filters through the canopy of leaves and branches above her. It reminds her of one of the images in Henry’s book. A book she now more than ever, wishes he had never acquired in the first place.

 

Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivers a little from the lingering cold. It was no longer winter, the flowers blooming and the sounds of wildlife are proof enough of that. But it still feels cold. And those same flowers and wildlife seem out of place. There is something there when she looks too hard and too long, something dark and ugly, and Regina stares at the tree again, wondering how it might’ve happened.

 

All the while knowing it wouldn’t change anything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He is more quiet nowadays. She has been noticing that for a while now. But it is more apparent during dinner-time. When he just eats quietly or plays with his food and stares at it.

 

He had been the buffer between them. Something for them both to fall back upon when things got strained. It had also been his suggestion for them to share a family dinner every now and then. When she had asked him about it, he had just shrugged in typical Henry manner and mentioned he wanted them to get better along now that he was spending time with them almost equally. He had tried to include Neal Cassidy as well, but she was adamant about drawing the line there.

 

She would draw the line there still. Would’ve told him no when he came by one day and asked if he could have Henry over every now and then. But she doesn’t.

 

He doesn’t ask her anything else than that, nor mention anything relating to Emma otherwise. And she doesn’t ask him any questions in return. Not that she needs to. The dark bags underneath his eyes and the haunted way he looked up at her as they talked briefly, tell her more than enough.

 

It’s the same way Henry looks up at her when she asks him how his day at school was. And though he does dutifully drone up the day’s events, the only spark of excitement she can detect are when he mentions a science-project. She tries to encourage him, to divert his attention away from what she knows likely haunts his every thought. But Regina also knows she fails when his eyes briefly flicker to the empty chair opposite of him.

 

When he stops talking there and then, and his lips clamp shut. And something gets stuck in her own throat in turn. A clump of words which she can’t utter, and a disheartening realization that no amount of words will make things right for him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She stares at them in disbelief and shock. Stares at them, at their anguished tear-streaked faces and doesn’t know what to say.

 

Stares at them.

 

And then turns her head and stares down the hallway instead. To the living-room only a short distance away. To the boy playing some new game on his Xbox.

 

She thinks of everything she can say. To all the ways she can break the news to him. But nothing works in her head. Her mouth opens when they ask her a question. But she closes it again a second later and shakes her head.

 

She stares down the hallway again and closes her eyes instead.

 

No words will come.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She hasn’t been here in a while. Not since she had to say goodbye to him forever.

 

There’s something about the smell of the stables that still makes her ache for a past now long gone. For things she will never have again. But it still makes her ache.

 

His last words ring around in her head, like he had only spoken them yesterday. She had thought her love for Henry to be enough.

 

But she can’t help wondering if there isn’t something more she is not opening herself up to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His birthday has been odd. Odd and overshadowed.

 

There is this feeling that she can’t shake, feeling that this isn’t how things are meant to be. That they had these talks, months ago, well before his birthday. These plans, these vows to work together and make his birthday a really special one.

 

She didn’t known Emma had already bought him something, even then.

 

Not until Neal brings it to her after he had finally cleaned out the apartment they had shared. He hasn’t said much, and she can only watch as the door closes behind him and she is left alone in the dark hallway.

 

Alone with a colorfully wrapped gift that would never be given the way birthday presents are supposed to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

One week earlier, after too much wine and some longer overdue talks during the night, Emma has fallen asleep on the couch.

 

She hasn’t noticed it at first. Not until calling out her name and getting no answer back. Regina smiles despite herself upon seeing the woman passed out onto the stack of pillows. One hand slightly tucked beneath her cheek and snoring softly.

 

Regina throws a blanket across the sleeping form and then makes her way to bed herself. She isn’t surprised to find no trace of Emma in the morning, and neither of them had brought it up during the family-dinner the day afterwards.

 

It had been only a week. But she knows, without actually checking, that the blanket likely still smells like the perfume Emma wore that day. It’s why she put it in the laundry.

 

It’s why she removes it again from the basket a moment later and puts it on a shelf in her closet instead.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She hits her head against some furniture while cleaning one day. While feeling her forehead her hand comes away bloody and she moves to the bathroom to take a closer look.

 

It is only a small cut but in the end it isn’t the wound on her forehead that makes her keep looking. Looking as if trying to find something.

 

As if there would be answers there. But there never is. She looks at the blood smeared across her hand and wonders if that was the whole point. That there would never be any answers. That some things just are and can’t be blamed on any one thing. That some things are just senseless like that. Senseless and sudden. Leaving behind this gaping hole that she is confronted with, no matter where she turns.

  
She looks into the mirror once more and wipes away the blood with a towel.

 

At least the cut would heal.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She used to think of all these plans she had for the future. When she was little. When Daniel had still been alive. She used to have these naive visions about living on a farm somewhere with him and raising their kids together.

 

She never thought much of people dying. Or her own mortality. Not until her mother had ruined those dreams of a future with Daniel. But at least his death had purpose. It had fueled her anger for so many years. She had found someone to blame, it gave her a goal to work towards.

 

But even then she had realized the extent of what she was doing. That it would lead her across a path of self-destruction. She had distanced herself from everything, grown cold and uncaring. She’d been alone. And Regina had thought she would die that way for the longest of time. Alone, unloved, and it hadn’t stopped her, because she always assumed at the very least in the end, she would see Daniel again.

 

All that changes when she adopts Henry. Everything changes so much. But still a part of her fears that she might die alone.

 

When she finds out that the failsafe has been activated in the mines, she even comes to terms with that fact. That she will die there, alone. Full-circle with the curse she had once cast to achieve her happy ending. The only thought on her mind as she controls the diamond’s powers is that Henry wouldn’t be alone. It is what keeps her focused, keeps her going to provide them all as much time as possible to get away from the town before she exhausts her reserves.

 

She only ever talks about the events in the mines once with Emma. Once. Roughly a week before the fatal accident. Afterwards, there are more questions than answers. Questions that will never be answered.

 

It’s on her mind ever since. The irony of it all. She expected for Emma to grow old together with someone. Possibly with Baelfire. Or at the very least for her to perish whilst performing some heroic deed. A hero’s death.

 

Not dying because of a head-on collision with a tree. Not dying in the metal carcass of a car, in the darkness, all by herself.

 

It is senseless. There is no one to blame, nothing to chase away this strange emptiness that lingers even in the months after Emma’s sudden departure.

 

She wonders, briefly, as she stares at the closet in which she put away the blanket, why she’s unable to think of anything else even now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She sees Emma at the docks. Sitting on the same bench where they had talked once before. There is no book in her lap this time and the expression on her face is strangely sad. Regina watches her for a while, studying the way in which Emma stares off into the distance, as if she was contemplating something important.

 

It takes a few moments for Emma to notice that she has company. Then she smiles, but it seems strained somehow and Regina wonders if it has anything to do with their talk a week earlier. How they hadn’t interacted much since, asides for picking up Henry.

 

She attempts some small talk, but Emma mostly stays quiet, mentions some things about Henry and her parents which Regina can’t remember now. Just like she doesn’t remember what possesses her to ask if Emma is okay. Maybe it is the way she keeps staring across the sea, keeps wringing her hands as if something is troubling her. Other than a hesitating answer that she is fine and sorting out some things, Emma doesn’t clarify any further. And before she can ask anything else Emma stands up and prepares to leave, that same forced smile pulling the corners of her mouth upwards as she stares past Regina.

 

Emma’s goodbye consists of her asking if they were still on for the dinner-plans with Henry tomorrow.

 

Snow and David are on her front porch later that same evening and her world turns upside down.

 

And it hasn’t turned back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes she actually picks the frame up to look at it. She’s never been able to throw it away, even though she is often tempted to do so.

 

When she gives him the birthday gift and he just stares at it, tears welling up in his eyes as she explains to him that it is Emma’s. A limited edition comic-book. He unwraps it and clutches it in his arms before eventually hugging her and crying even more. Crying until he is so worn out that he is practically half-asleep and she puts him to bed with the burn of tears in her own eyes, blurring everything together.

 

He doesn’t let go of the comic-book once.

 

And she is tempted. So very tempted. Because the picture that she looks at now is a reminder of how far they had come. It is a reminder of everything that is gone.

 

They look happy, the three of them, smiling for the camera after Henry’s insistence that they should all take a picture together. It is not too long after Neverland, not too long after they decide Henry could stay with them both equally.

 

They look happy.

 

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Regina puts the frame face-down again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She traces over the name on the stone few times, wipes a few fallen leaves away from the grave.

 

It is the first time, and she wonders, as her heart clenches painfully in her chest, if it might be the last time. Because ever since she arrived all she is able to think of is missed opportunities and things that will never be. Things that will never happen, things she will never have.

 

And it is something she can’t wrap her mind around. This void that is left in everyone’s lives. In Henry’s, in her own. A wound that will never heal completely.

 

She stares at the name again and scrapes her throat. Once, twice, but then shakes her head and closes her eyes.

 

“I miss you.”

 

And leaves without looking back.

  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  



End file.
